The Memoirs of Draco Malfoy, Study of a Genius
by Sham Harga
Summary: The title is pretty self-explanatory. Set in Prisoner of Azkaban era. The trials and tribulations of a marvellous individual. If Draco does say so himself.


Oooh – a new fic! I wasn't expecting this but I just got inspiration this morning as I was re-reading PoA. I know this has been done many, many times before but I just couldn't resist putting the events of PoA in Draco's point of view. Plus, it gives me a chance to exercise some attempts at humour again. Please review and tell me what you think. I have no definite plans for this, other than following the book, this just popped out in a flurry of ideas, so I would like to know if people are enjoying it before I make it a project.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present, the Memoirs of Draco Malfoy, or as he likes to call it, 'The Study of a Genius'.

* * *

**Saturday 7th August **

**2pm**

I don't know what I want to be when I'm older, but I do know I want to be rich and famous, hence the reason for this diary. When I die, after a long and illustrious career as a – something, but a rich and famous and staggeringly beautiful something – people will be amazed and awestruck by the wisdom I impart in these pages. The poor fools will read the astute and perceptive insight I reveal on life and will exclaim 'Well, he was truly a great and intelligent and dashingly attractive ... whatever'. Despite my superior intelligence I am still undecided as to what that whatever will be. Dad has some pretty fixed ideas, but I'm still not sure that being a Death Eater is the right life choice for me – the hours are intrusive, the dress code is ridiculous, promotional options are sketchy and quite frankly the whole thing has cult written all over it. And I don't quite fancy being part of a cult unless I'm the lead figure. Now there's an idea – I could form my own Dark Revolution! Pat self on the back for being so devilishly clever. Better not mention that to dad though, he's still positive that his Dark Lord is going to make a comeback. I'm not so certain – I mean he's been defeated by Potty three times already and that idiot can't even fix his own glasses.

On the subject of dad, the poor guy has been a little nervous of late, what with Sirius Black running round again. First person ever to escape from Azkaban – everyone's gone crazy with admiration. Personally, I feel avoiding the damn place entirely would be even smarter, but that's the very thing that has dad so worried. He's apprehensively awaiting a visit from the Dark Lord, Ruler of the World, Heir of Slytherin, One Time Chess Champion's greatest servant and isn't looking forward to questions of the 'where the hell have you been with your support all these years' type. So, with a rather dubious stroke of wisdom, dad has taken it upon himself to create some banners. 'Black is Back – hooray!' is my personal favourite, although I am rather fond of the subtlety and wit of 'V – O – L – D – Y – he's my kind of guy!' Just for fun I made my own in stunning Slytherin green that simply read 'Potter sucks'. Dad was embarrassingly thrilled and I am afraid to say he totally missed the insult to him and feels we have bonded over the entire thing. It's quite sad really. But still, the beautifully sculpted flowing script in dazzling emerald is something to wonder at, and is currently taking pride of place above the mantelpiece. Though I do wonder exactly how far dad expects this to placate a demented, murdering fugitive out for revenge on those he feels have deserted.

Mum also pointed out that this is all rather suspicious if the Ministry arrive, especially after the whole escapade with Grandad's (rather tasteless) collection of Muggle heads. Despite his insistence that he only needed one more to complete the set there was a great deal of unpleasantness and dad was forced to buy an entire new wing for St Mungo's to settle everything. Ironically, I believe it's being used as a neurology wing. Some people have no tact. I think if the Ministry found dad's new decorations then we'd have to buy an entire hospital complete with stench, and that smell of disinfectant, anaesthetic and boredom costs an absolute fortune to pump in. So, his terrific solution has been to create a contradictory set of banners with such convincing sentiments as 'Up the Ministry', 'You-Know-Who who?' and 'We have lots of money'. So far nobody has suspected a thing – I despair, I really do.

'_A bird in the hand is not as satisfying as one bleeding on the ground'_

**Sunday 8th August**

**2 am**

Dad's banners proved a huge success at his WAND (We Are Not Death Eaters) meeting tonight, for all Voldemort's free supporters. They've obviously all been as worried as dad because before they left they all framed a picture of Black torn from a newspaper and signed it with hearts and other pathetic attempts at showing support. I hate the meetings, dad always parades me in front of these pathetic, overexcited, washed up men and women who have nothing better to do than get drunk and reminisce about the 'Good Old Days'. They always ask me if I'm going to follow in my daddy's footsteps and follow the Dark Lord. Of course I say yes, but just for once I'd love to say I plan on becoming a train driver or a vet, just to see the expression on their aging faces. I'm certainly not becoming a Death Eater if I have to get one of those stupid tattoos, they all look so contemptible displaying their arms for each other to admire.

It really is pitiful how none of them will admit it was all just a drunken mistake. Dad had too many sherries one Christmas and confessed that the tradition _really_ began when "me, Tommy, Sevvie, the Guv'nor, Todger, Crabs and Goyle got absolutely leathered, I'm talking proper shit faced, kid. And as we was staggering down the high street, me and ol' Todge proppin' up Tom – always was a bit of a lightweight, two pints and he was dancing on the table, four pints and he was asleep underneath it ... anyway, wha' was I sayin'? Oh yes, so we was jus' a-wanderin' down the street, hexin' nice ladies clothes off, tha' sorta thing when Sevvie Snape spots this tattoo parlour, right? An' 'e says how he's always fancied gettin' one done an', an', an' Tom perks up a bit an' says – what did he say? – oh yeh, that he reckoned it was a great idea and 'cause we were all in his club that we should all get the same one to show how we was brothers in arms 'n all. An' _I_ said that he was a brother in mine an' Todger's arms, cos 'e was, which made ev'rybody laugh. An' _he_ said I wasa, I wasa, was a tosser 'n should shut up an' that we'd all go in an' get this tattoo together, see? So we staggers in an decides on the right design, like cool an' tough an' everythin' and so we gets this tattoo done. Poor Crabby looked a bit sick after an' Tommy totally wimped out, but we all reckoned we looked pretty damn cool. Then next morning we all had to go back again and get the penises on our arms changed into somethin' else. But I reckon this skull thing is pretty nifty, an they blended the snake in with the dick real nice like. O' course everyone else wanted one after that."

I have no desire to have _that _carved into my arm thankyou very much, not even if the phallic symbol has been changed into a snake, and as for showing it off? Not on your life – I'd rather have Potty's scar. Speaking of whom, that was the other thing those idiots were rambling on about, apparently the Wonder Boy blew his aunt up. I can't pretend to know what the fuss is about – I did that years ago, and I didn't just let her blow away – father and myself had a marvellous time trying out this gun contraption. It grieves me to admit that in their filthy, disgraceful and bland existence they do have some tiny sparks of genius. I bet Potter didn't even _mean _to do it, and of course he got off. I did too, obviously, but that was due to underhanded bribery and corruption rather than simply being the Ministry's favourite arse-licker.

Must finish writing, I hear dad on his drunken way upstairs and must appear to be asleep before he attempts to brag to me about his sexual exploits. I would like to be able to face the family at breakfast,

_Too many cooks are a sign of excessive wealth and must be employed to the full._

* * *

Hope you liked this, and Draco's little nuggets of wisdom concluding each breathtaking entry. I didn't mean for his dad to be such an idiot, he just developed that way. I may give him a few more brain cells if I continue with this. 'Til then, please don't hesitate to feedback, good or bad. (Oh, and I'm sure you all figured that the petulant friend Tommy was none other than You-Know-Who.)

Sham & Draco


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